Attitude
by phoenix521
Summary: Your solitude is welcome. Your attitude is welcome. You are welcome. So please, give me a reason to thank you. Rated for language. You know how eloquent those Bebopers are. Part four, all that she wrote, awaits your scrutiny. Thank you and goodnight.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n:** hello, hello. i've resurfaced once again and offer you this little semi-oneshot. this is more like 'prayer for the dying' that i did a couple years back. i really meant for this to be a short, sweet thing, but it took over and insisted on becoming 29 pages long...things never go as planned. but in order to keep you from having to read 29 pages straight, i've broken this down into 4 parts, all revolving around lyrics from the song 'attitude' by alien ant farm. i really hope you'll read and enjoy and review to let me know how it goes. the standard no flame plea is in effect. thank you. and thanks for sticking with me and giving my stuff a looksie, even when i only offer you meager scraps. it means a lot! now on with the fic!

oh, and yeah, i don't own bebop or this song. so please, don't sue.

part one, something to get you started.

* * *

_Maybe I act on confused behavior…_

Fingers splayed over a taut, sweat-slicked stomach as a bare, feminine leg wrapped around a narrow, masculine waist. Dusty, dank light filtered through the semi-closed slats in the window, illuminating body parts as they twisted and flexed in an effort to be both closer and further away from one another. Breath from open lips mingled in the space between, impatient hands raked through green and violets locks.

Leaning in for kisses that were neither wanted nor rejected, tongues dueled for supremacy and no one was keen on backing down. Settling for revolving dominance, the contact deepened until one broke away in a fiery trail that ended with soft bites to an ambiguous collar bone. As a groan was elicited from the hard, male body, a smirk rose to the faded red lips of the female doing the biting. She knew that secondary erogenous zone always took him by surprise.

Spun and pinned against the wall in motions almost to fast to be human, the woman felt a nipping at the space between her neck and shoulder. The tale-tell smirk she felt easily suggested that two could – and would play at this game. As a groan reluctantly escaped from her lips, the man once again pulled her leg, smooth as silk, up over his hip and then repeated the motion with the other.

Breaking contact with her skin, two mismatched eyes focused intently on the jade ones staring back at him. Of all the guilty pleasures, and in this one act alone there were many, he would never miss the look on her face when he entered her. Whether the look was natural or deliberate, the girl was never one to disappoint.

_Maybe waves crash like semi-trailer._

If it were possible, the small room they were occupying rose even higher in degrees. Orbiting near Venus and on a ship with busted A/C made for hot enough conditions. Adding in body heat and friction made the space near scorching. But neither adult really seemed to notice. That simply wasn't the focal point of their current activities.

They knew by now how to interact in various situations. Full ship – keep quiet. Just the man – keep it down. Just the girl – distract her and keep it down. Empty ship – no holds barred. They both much preferred no holds barred. Between his grunts and her moans, it wouldn't be hard to figure out what was transpiring in the little room, but if a tree falls in a forest, right? And guilty pleasure number 2 or 10 or who the hell cares, he loved to hear her moan. Maybe it was male pride, or maybe it was something else, but listening to her say – near scream his name always gave the experience an extra jolt of something good.

An afternoon of empty ship conditions meant her climax echoed throughout the space craft. At least next to his ear, he would figure her voice could carry that far. It wasn't as if he wasn't loud enough in his own right, it just wasn't like what her lung capacity could provide.

Letting a leg slip down to the floor, his face rested in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her and him. Her head was back against the wall, eyes closed and mouth agape. Soft fingers loosely clutched onto his back as he evened his breathing. Strong hands kept her pinned to the wall. She'd move only when he allowed it. It's how it almost always happened. She rarely complained about it.

_Maybe I'll spend my off time without you…_

Finally back to even breathing and feeling a sudden chill pass over their still damp flesh, they disengaged and repelled from one another almost like opposite ends of a magnet. Turning his back to the woman, the man made his way over to a dresser and the box of cigarettes that lay in wait. Sticking two in his mouth and lightening them simultaneously, he strolled back over and dared her to take one. Eyeing him with the same mix of appreciation, appreciation, and disdain that was reflected in his stare, she plucked the left one from the corner of his mouth and invited the smoke into her lungs.

Still leaning on the wall, she crossed her arms, unashamed of her naked state and watched him take a seat on the bed, just as unashamedly naked as she. They stayed that way for several minutes, steeped in the silence the filled the now smoke-hazed room. Judging by the way the shadows stretched lazily over the floor it was nearing late afternoon. What time were the man and the kid supposed to return?

"Jet and Ed are supposed to be back around five," his rough voice broke through the stillness.

Ask and you shall receive was the first thought that popped up in her mind. She knew it was true and sought out the clock on his night stand and quickly read the time. Four thirty seven. She had time to shower off the smell, get dressed, and leave before they got back. She wasn't sure if any of those options pleased her, though.

"You gonna grab your stuff or should I?"

"Always the gentleman, aren't you," was the first audible words she'd said in the last half hour.

"You know how it goes, Faye."

"Yeah, I know Spike," she bit back a little more than she'd meant to. She'd come to expect it by now, but such a careless tone after such a careful act never failed to irritate her, though she couldn't quite place why.

Deciding the fight wasn't worth it since the situation in general was a lost cause, Faye, only half way through her cigarette, dashed it into the one of many ashtrays in the room. She began to sift through the clothes and the junk littered on the cold floor, tossing clothes at him as she gathered her own. As a random though, she wondered how the floor could be so cold when the ship clearly was not. Then she wondered why she always had random thoughts at moments like this.

"We don't have to keep doing this, you know," his voice wafted through the air again.

"Yeah, I know."

"Then why do we?"

There was a thick weight hanging over the room now with the utterance of that simple question. Why _did_ they keep doing this? How in the hell did _this_ even start?

"I guess we just haven't found a good enough reason to stop," was Faye's simple reply.

Spike looked up at her then and watched as she eased out of the door. She rarely opened it all the way. She did weird things like that. The door slid closed again and he turned his gaze back to the floor between his feet. Taking a long drag off his cig, he sighed out the smoke.

_It seems like we need our own space._

_And all this time I wasted away;_

Deciding that a shower was probably a good idea after all, Faye found herself in the bathroom and her soiled clothes in the hamper. Adjusting the water to hot but not scalding, she stepped into the cascade and washed the most recent memories off of her. Letting the water slip over her form, she rested a hand on the wall in front of her and the other at the base of her neck.

Maybe it was the masochist in her, or perhaps it was the fatalist, but she often wondered what it would feel like to feel his fingers clench ever so slightly around her delicate throat. God knows she'd never admit to it, though. For all she knew, he just might do it. Even worse, he might even like it.

It often felt like a waste of time to Faye, trying to fill some need for her…some need for him. She was never truly satisfied. She wouldn't deny that the sex was great. It was. It was really great. But she was never satisfied. And she had a feeling that neither was he. Somehow she rationalized that that was why they always came back to each other this way. In hopes that this would be the time when whatever hole they were trying to fill would finally seal up. In hopes that this would really be the last time.

_To not feel good unless you stay, stay, stay._

Finally rising from the bed, Spike slipped on a pair of sweatpants. Padding out of the room barefoot, he made his way to the deck. There was no point in showering just yet. It was still early in the day and he'd yet to work out. Well…that wasn't _entirely_ true, but sticks and stones.

Arriving to his destination, he warmed up with a few hits to the punching bag that hung listlessly from the ceiling. It wasn't long before another sheen of sweat began to build up over his body. Considering the temperature on the ship at the moment, it was a wonder that all of the ships inhabitants weren't perpetually drenched.

Breaking away from the bag, Spike posed himself and began to run through moves that he knew so well. He thrust a fist to the left and faked a kick to the right. Dropping to the floor, he swept his right foot back, spun on his toes and sprung up again. Almost immediately he launched into a roundhouse kick followed by a series of jabs and lazy punches that were meant to take the enemy's energy without wasting any of his own. To watch him was like seeing poetry in motion, as cliché a phrase it may be. But there was no way to deny that he could master the moves his body made so effortlessly. Those moves were one of the few things he could control, and he held on to that fiercely.

He found that he could execute these moves in practice flawlessly after he'd been with Faye. In real combat, he was still just as good. There was something about the shrew that kept the blood pumping through his veins the way it did. He figured it was simply due to sheer want. Want to work her out of his system. No matter how hard he tried, she refused to be done away with so easily.

_And all this time I chased you away,_

"Hey! We got the parts! We'll be breakin' out the parkas in no time!"

The boisterous shouting could come from no one else but Jet. Upon entering his beloved ship, he quickly took stock and noticed a definite lack of crew. But with both MONOs parked and nearly gathering dust in the hangar, he figured that the other shipmates were merely busying themselves in an effort to keep from being contracted to help in repairs. That or they were too busying fucking. Jet knew those two too well and knew that as of late, the thick sexual tension of the ship had fizzled to a dull pressure.

He also knew that no good would come of this most recent development, either. Spike was too far gone and trying too hard to pretend like he wasn't and Faye was far too…Faye. Maybe if they had waited or maybe if they had done it earlier, then maybe…but not now. He really wanted to be wrong, but Spike and Faye continuously seemed to prove him right.

"Damn kids and their hormones," he muttered as he dropped the box of parts on the kitchen table.

The original plan was to get working on the A/C as soon as he got home, but finding the ship so quiet made him tired for some reason. That and he'd rather have them come to him, instead of letting Ed wander the ship and possibly walk in on things that no fourteen year old should.

"Jet-person," Ed drawled out lazily.

"What, Ed?"

"Ed is hot. And Ed is tired."

"Then go take a nap on the couch. I'll get it cooled down soon enough."

It wasn't the first time Ed had complained today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. For a total of four days, the air had been out and along with the adults, Ed was complaining just as much, if not more. Faye had explained it simply, since she was never one to put things delicately.

"Ed is having her period. Ed is having cramps. Cramps make you tired. Hot makes you irritable. Therefore Ed is hot, irritable, on her period, and cramping. Trust me, by the very fact that she's not tearing the ship apart, count yourself lucky."

Jet shook his head at the thought. How in the hell was he supposed to survive on a ship, in space no less, with not one but two females that did…female things? Throw in a guy who sometimes acted just like he was PMSing, as Faye often put it, and Jet was practically living in an environment brimming with estrogen.

"Why aren't you fixing it yet?"

Jet looked up then as Spike entered the room. A towel was wrapped around his waist, sitting low, and his usual mop of hair was laying a closer to his head. He ambled over to the fridge and grabbed a beer then turned his attention back to the older man.

"Well?"

"I just wanted to know where you and the woman were before I got started."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Spike asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Jet wasn't mincing words. "Where is she, anyway?"

"Hell if I know. I'm not her keeper; I don't care where she is."

_Simply to catch back up with..._

"I'd rather die than have you "keep" me," Faye easily threw out as she too entered the kitchen.

Opting for the cabinet instead, she grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap. She was now dressed in jean shorts and a blue tank, a far cry from her attire just a few months ago. In between Spike's departure and miraculous resurgence, Faye had taken Jet's advice for once, and ditched the vinyl for something a little less…slutty. She felt it was the least she could do for the old man, considering everything that was happening at the time. Faye was never one for pity but she did know how to throw a dog a bone every now and again.

Jet leaned back on the counter and watched how Spike and Faye tried so hard to ignore each other. He had a good idea as to what was going on while he was out. They were always more aggressive towards each other after, so he'd come to notice. But he wasn't going to bring it up if they weren't.

"Why aren't you fixing the air yet?" Faye asked as she gulped almost hungrily at the water.

"Here's a question: why aren't either of _you_ fixing the air?" Jet tossed back at them. "You two are some damn ungrateful. Always think someone's gonna do all the dirty work for you."

"Geez, Jet, just asking," Faye said, hands up in mock surrender. "Don't get you frilly little panties all up in a bunch."

Sighing and knowing there was no way to win this round, Jet went to the box of parts and started rummaging around.

"Anyone wanna help me?" He asked, putting some wires on the table.

As expected, he got no answer.

"Did you two ever hear the story about the hen who wanted to bake some bread, so she cut the wheat, ground it up, and baked the bread all by herself? And she asked a dog and a cat and a pig to help her, but they were all too "busy" and in the end, when the bread was done, they came out of the woodwork to get some bread, but the hen refused to feed them since they didn't help?"

"…So…you're calling Faye fat?" Spike asked with a devilish grin on his face.

"…Shit," Jet muttered, knowing this wouldn't end well. He had just meant to impart a little life lesson on those two, honest.

"Well, I guess I'd rather be a pig than a big, fat pussy," Faye responded in a dulcet tone.

"Fuck you, Faye," was the eloquent response.

"Twice in one day? I didn't know you had it in you."

"…Double shit," Jet muttered. That was the first time any actual acknowledgment of their "adult games" was made. And in front of him no less. He began to put the wires back in the box, quick to make an exit.

"I'm not gonna fight with you, Faye. What's the point of that? Besides, as far as I can see it, you just a jealous bitch. And you know that every time we fuck, every single God damn time, I'm never thinking of you. And I never will."

The phrase "triple shit" wouldn't have been enough to describe the look on the woman's face. Maybe "one hundred shit", but not just three. To try and describe the look, you might take crushing disappointment with flat out rage sprinkled with stone cold truth and _that_ might be reminiscent of how Faye appeared

"You can try and fuck a ghost all you want to, shithead, but it'll always be _me_ screaming you name."

That, followed by a well-timed smack to Spike's face, Faye hurried out of the kitchen and predictably, out to her ship.

Shaking his head and grabbing the box, Jet started out for the Control Room to finally go fix the A/C. On his way out, though, he added in his two cents. He would always add them.

"Go get her."

"…What?" Spike asked, truly unsure of what he'd heard.

"I've known for a while, what you two have been doing. And I've dealt with it. But you're playing with fire; you both are. You guys can sort things out later but as for right now go.get.her."

It wasn't a suggestion; it wasn't even a favor being asked. It was a demand and no matter how much Spike would want to ignore it, he'd have to give in eventually. If he left now, she wouldn't be too far away.

"Fuck."

* * *

so, that's the first bit. stay tuned for more! oh, and if there are typos, please forgive me. if there's illogical sentences, please tell me. i'm my own beta and i'm probably terrible/rusty at it. and that extends to all chapters. gracias.


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n:** part two, for your consideration

and i'm sorry if these chapters stop at odd places. there was no real, convenient breaks, so i just kinda made them up. i hope it flows well enough.

* * *

_Your solitude is welcome, welcome.  
__Your attitude is welcome, welcome._

She flew fast and hard. It didn't really matter where she was going, just as long as she got away from the ship and much more importantly, from _him._ That was it. That was the last straw. She'd never _touch_ him again even if her life depended on it. Fuck him, fuck her, and fuck Julia! She was better than that; she was better than _her_! And just because some _asshole_ lunkhead with a martyr complex couldn't see that didn't make it any less true. He didn't get to decide the measure of her worth! But if that was true…then why did this hurt so much.

Putting her ship in cruise mode, she slumped back in her seat. She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been gripping the wheel until she practically had to pry her fingers from it. She hadn't realized she'd been crying until she felt the cool splatter on her bare thigh. Wiping away the moisture she put her nailed fingers to her flesh and wondered how hard she'd have to pull to break the skin. And then she wondered if anyone would even care.

_Your solitude is welcome, welcome,  
__Your attitude is welcome._

He didn't want to go after her. He had meant what he said. If she was stupid enough to think that he actually wanted to be with _her_, then she needed this reality check. Badly. His girl was dead, and so was he. He just had the unfortunate luxury of retaining his body and all of its facilities. The only thing that woman was to him was a warm, willing body. That's all he would ever want from her, and perhaps that was way too much to ask for. It was the damned proximity and easy access that kept him coming back.

One thing she had been right about, though, was that he could never mistake his angel's voice for that shrew's. Julia would call his name so soft and sweet. Faye screeched like a banshee. It was like night and day with the two of them. No, there was no way to confuse them. Julia would also never allow every single encounter to be up against a wall of spread over a table, or anything like that. She'd demand a bed and better treatment. Faye simply rolled with the punches. They were absolutely different women, no doubt.

Julia also preferred softer touches and more intimate kisses while Faye was more rough and tumble. She'd leave marks and would want some of her own to show off. She also had deeper, more intense kisses. And she tended to just seem to…appreciate the situation better. Definitely nothing like Julia. He would never mistake one for the other. And by that flow of logic…then why had he told her that he could?

_All you see is red lights behind me…_

Cruising aimlessly in space, Faye was still reclined in her seat with eyes closed. She had calmed herself down with a series of deep breaths and mental blocks. She'd gotten good at putting those up. She had to, considering what she'd woken up to those some four years ago. She wasn't positive how long she'd stay away from the ship, but she knew she'd go back eventually. Like it or not, the Bebop was her home now. For now.

Jet had made it perfectly clear that she could stay; would stay until he was satisfied that she could live on her own successfully. It'd be hard to pinpoint when it all happened, but somewhere along the way, she and Jet had formed a true partnership. He had taken a bit of a shine to the lost little girl and she had taken a shine to his…togetherness. He welcomed her, all of her, and it was that comfort that made her stay. It must have happened while _he _was away, dead somewhere. They had both taken it hard, with both Ed and _him_ gone. They'd both lost too many people too soon, and to try and weather one more could have destroyed them both. So yes, she'd go back. She'd always go back.

Faye wondered briefly if she could get Jet to kick Spike off the ship. At this point in the game, Faye was more loyal to Jet and the Bebop, and with this most recent fight between the two, she could perhaps play the devastated female card. But that wasn't fair, she figured, getting him out simply because of a bad decision she had made. It wasn't Spike's fault entirely. It takes two to tango, so…

But she had known it was wrong from the very beginning. Sleeping with a man in mourning? She had to be crazy. But she had wanted him for reasons she couldn't describe and he had wanted a substitute. Time and space finally met up and now she found herself floating in the void.

Where were the stop signs? The 'dead end' and 'no exit' signs? Was a girl supposed to always just inherently know the warnings? It was high time that someone throw _her_ a bone. It was high time someone simply…cared.

_Maybe this isn't what you wanted baby._

She wasn't sure why it even mattered so much or why she very nearly craved human touch. She wasn't the starry-eyed girl that she was before the fall; before her world was shattered and pieced back together with scotch tape and science. She was older, wiser, and harder. So much harder than she ever thought she could be. But somewhere inside, she was still soft. A part of her that refused to accept this new life and the loneliness that went with it. Faye didn't think she could ever accept the loneliness.

So she figured that's why she let things with Spike happen. She would have loved to say that they were both drunk and didn't know what they were doing, but that wouldn't work for every single time. Perhaps it could have been random blackouts that he had taken advantage of, but that story had too many plot holes. The God honest truth was nothing glamorous. He had walked in on her getting out of the shower. She had yelled at him, he had smirked at her, and in between fake punches and yelling, his lips hand landed on hers and that was that. The next time was even less alluring. He asked if she wanted a quick screw and she had said yes. They were never ones to mince words.

It was never what she wanted though. She wasn't a simple girl and she hated such a simple interaction, though things were rarely simple where she and Spike were concerned. But still, it wasn't what she wanted, or more honestly, what she needed. Faye would keep it to herself for as long as possible, but all she wanted was to be loved, as difficult as the truth was. It was her fault entirely to think for even a millisecond that Spike Spiegel of all people would entertain such an idea. And besides, she'd never want him to love her because she didn't love him. There was absolutely nothing about him to love.

_And I don't blame you falling backwards…_

"If you're done with your little hissy fit, I'd appreciate you getting your ass back to the ship already," an irritate voice crackled throughout her MONO.

Lazily pulling her eyes to the control panel, she could see that face staring back her, uninterested. She gave an inaudible sigh and reached to turn the monitor off. She didn't want to hear his voice and damn sure didn't want to see his face. She would have been content if he had just faded into non-existence in that very moment.

He must have noticed the movement from her end and made a half-hearted effort to get through to her.

"Just get back already and anything you want to talk about…we can."

Faye ventured to say that he was reluctant to add that part in. Or to say anything at all.

"Jet sent you, didn't he?" It really wasn't a question.

"You didn't think I'd come for you out of the kindness of my heart, did you?"

"No, Spike, I'd never be stupid enough to think that," Faye responded in a tone that was less bitter than she thought she was capable of at the moment. "You can go back and tell Jet I'll be…home soon."

"I'm under the impression that I can't go home without you," he replied near-sarcastically.

"I'm sure you could try."

And with that, Faye clicked the monitor off. She prided herself on knowing that Spike wouldn't come after her for himself. She wasn't _that_ deluded. The only reason Spike would willing seek her out was if she had taken something from him, and seeing as though he was broke, he had nothing that she wanted. He'd never have a reason to come after her.

It struck her then, an odd sensation that she really wasn't used to. Complacency. She had realized that somewhere between the first fuck and the last, she'd come to expect Spike's vulgar lack of caring and that without it, the situation would have been absolutely foreign to her. She really wasn't okay with that. She deserved something better than that, she was sure.

Leaning forward and taking hold of the wheel again, Faye suddenly decided it was time to go back to the ship. She and Spike needed to "talk". It was high time she tell him to shove off and stay away from her. She'd tell him to find his ghost in another body and she'd tell him that she didn't want him. That she never really wanted him. And more importantly, she'd tell him that she didn't _need_ him.

She stopped again and slumped back in her seat. True, she didn't want him. But …she needed him. In some sickening way, she needed him. Because there was something about this that she couldn't let go. Her mind flashed back to the first time that something stirred inside her where Spike was concerned. It was the cathedral. She knew he had only come for Vicious, but afterwards, a long time afterwards, when his bruises were mostly healed, he had apologized. One, for calling her tone deaf, when what he really meant was she had lousy rhythm. Two, for not paying enough attention and letting her get into the situation in the first place.

Maybe she needed him to protect her still. But Vicious was dead. Maybe she needed assurance that someone would cover her ass if needed. But that's what Jet was for. Maybe she just needed to know that he didn't really hate her. Maybe he was the solution to her daddy issues and she desperately needed his approval to simply exist. She just didn't know, and it frustrated her to know end! Chucking a discarded flight map at the cockpit glass, she growled an aggravated sigh and felt the tears fall.

_No one's ever quite confused you this way._

_And all this time we wasted away,_

He hopped down from the Swordfish and shuffled back inside the Bebop. He wasn't going to drag the woman back here, and she had assured him that she'd return, so that was more than good enough for him. Hopefully that would please Jet. Deciding not to test the waters though, he silently made his way back to his room.

Either he was gone longer than he thought or Jet was faster than he thought, because his tiny cube of a room was drastically cooler than it had been for the last few days. Going to the bed with its rumpled sheets, Spike lay down and enjoyed the chill of the linen on his face. The lingering heat from the ship, coupled with his frustrations with Faye made the cool all the more welcome. That damned woman always got him more worked up than he'd let on. She had a way of taking him from zero to sixty in three point five, and he resented her for it more with each time it happened.

It always amazed him, really, just how much she could annoy him. No other woman had ever been able to rip his skin open and crawl inside the way she could. It was exasperating to deal with it over and over again, but even more so was trying to understand why it happened. Or why he made it a point to upset her occasionally, just to fight with her. Or why, when he was supposed to be thinking of Julia…his thoughts often drifted back to her.

_We don't feel good unless we're gray, gray, gray._

It had only been four months. Well, five if you counted the one where he was in the hospital, but who was really keeping count besides everyone else, apparently? But only four months he'd been back on the Bebop and for three of them, he'd been sleeping with Faye. No, no need for pretty euphemisms, he'd been fucking Faye. And she'd been fucking him right back. And as much as he hated it, being with her, there was something in her embrace that kept him…together, for lack of a better term.

She'd been near hysterical when he'd come back. She hadn't instantly broken down at the mere sight of him, but later on that night when the ship was sleeping, he had heard her as he strolled past her room. Her sobs were near fever-pitched and he would have never really known what she was so distressed over if Jet hadn't have told him.

It wasn't Spike's intentions to upset Jet or Faye when he left, but he wasn't living his life for them. And evidently, that didn't go over too well with either of them, his blatant disregard for their feelings and all. They had both taken it hard, Jet explained, but Faye especially. They'd both had their fair share of losing people around them, but it had been too many too soon for Faye, and to think that Spike was gone, one of the very few people that she had some kind of trust in, was almost too much for her. His miraculous return to life was what had pushed her over the edge for a time.

He didn't remember when Faye had finally been able to look at him, let alone talk to him. His memory was still a bit fuzzy, the pictures a little too gray. But the most vivid recollection was the shower incident. The gateway drug to their constant encounters, if you will. And yes, she was like a drug. And the more he wanted to stop, the more of her he took.

_And all the times I chased you away…_

He had to wonder why she still put up with it, why she kept coming back for more and allowing him to do the same. The only passion between them was their anger towards one another. And yet there was an explicit fervor to their actions, and infatuation almost. Touching skin that was set ablaze by such effortless actions was a feeling that he wasn't so willing to give up, so he was distressed to come to find. It was only a fantasy, that's all it could ever be.

He suddenly found himself then, wishing that she had followed him back. As much as it pained him to say they'd "talk" and as much as he hated "talking" in general, this was something that they needed to do. He needed to know why she allowed this and he needed to know how to stop this. More importantly, he had to erase any illusions that things between them where anything more than what they were…w_hatever_ things were.

Or maybe he could just leave again. It was possible to disappear if he hurried, and if all else failed, he could hide in his room until they docked, slip out the front door and come back for his things another time. It would solve so many of the recent problems in his life. The senseless sex would inevitably come to an end and without having to engage in the promised conversations, feelings would be spared; potential truths as well, for that matter.

But could he do that again? Just up and vanish out of their lives? It wouldn't be so hard on the kid, perhaps, since she had been the first of them all to run out. But to do it to Jet and Faye again? He was sure that they'd kill him on site if they were to ever cross paths again. And he wasn't sure he would be able to blame them for it, either. Despite as callous as he could be, he just couldn't find it in himself to be so cruel so soon again.

_I simply don't feel good._

Although what if leaving was the best way to cause the least amount of pain? Spike had this nagging feeling that his impending talk with Faye would be a disaster at the very best. He'd say things he didn't mean, she try to claw his eyes out, and all in all, nothing would really be resolved.

"Jesus, what in the hell was I thinking?" He asked himself as he rolled over.

Grabbing a cigarette and lighting up, Spike inhaled deeply. He briefly wondered if that would be the death of him: going out on a puff of smoke. It'd be the ultimate irony in his opinion. The simple acting of breathing in and out, though, was one of the few things that made sense to him anymore. And with a rapidly declining list of things to believe in, Spike was clinging fiercely to every belief.

"So, where's the girl?"

Spike didn't acknowledge the figure in the doorway. If he kept his eyes closed, maybe he wouldn't be seen.

"I guess that means you didn't get her?"

"Thanks for fixing the air," Spike finally said.

"Your welcome, but you're avoiding the subject."

"She didn't want to come back yet, but she told me to tell you that she'd be home soon."

Jet stared at the man on the bed and knew he was trying hard to be invisible. Watching his subtle intake of breath and the slight twitches of his fingers as he flicked away ash, Jet almost pitied him. Spike had made a real mess of his life with the constant bad choices he'd made. And every time it seemed as if there could be a possible turn-around, a light at the end of the tunnel, Jet could only sit by and watch near helplessly as another wrong turn was made. He soon shook his head at the notion, knowing he was going soft in his old age. There was never a reason to pity a man who was always so willing fail.

"The kid still mopin'?" Spike asked in reference to Ed.

"She's upside down on the couch, clacking around on her computer while using Ein as a pillow. I don't know if you could say she ain't mopin' but at least she's not complaining."

Spike nodded deftly and tried miserably to blow rings in the smoke.

"Do you know why I asked you to go after her?" Jet queried, refusing to be thrown off of his thesis so easily.

"Cause I'm a bad boy and need to be punished for my mistakes?"

"Well, you made that sound gross," Jet recoiled from the room a bit. "But no, I'll leave that to someone else. I made you go after her because you can't treat her like that –"

"I wasn't treating her like anything," Spike countered as he sat up, an angry look in his divergent eyes.

"Exactly, Spike. You treat her like nothing, or worse than that, and she doesn't deserve it. She's never done anything to you. Well, nothing to warrant what you do to her. You two never should have started this in the first place, but you did. And since you did, you've both got to be responsible. That doesn't just mean not knocking her up that means you can't be an all around ass to her, either."

"She's not exactly sunshine and roses…" Spike drawled.

"Yeah, but she's not trying to pretend she's seeing someone else every time she's with you. When the two of you do…whatever it is you do…she's doing it with you, Spike, and nobody else."

And with that, he left. Jet always had a way of doing that: explaining truths in easy to understand terms then leaving you to ruminate on what he had said. He was really good at it, too. Sitting up now with his legs bowed out and his back slumped, Spike took another draw for his waning cigarette.

"Aw, fuck!"

* * *

onward --


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n: **part the third, for your reading pleasure.

* * *

_Your solitude is welcome, welcome.  
__Your attitude is welcome, welcome…_

She arrived back to the ship about an hour later. She'd finally had enough of space, or lack thereof. For as wide an expanse as the universe was, she'd always be restricted to structures that would pipe in air. She'd never feel the void of space on her skin, at least not long enough to live to tell the tale. And she'd never smell the emptiness or feel the burn on her fingers from stars when she got too close. No, the closest she'd ever come to actual, physical contact with that magnificent void would be the empty touches that only Spike could provide her with. The more she thought about, the less she actually liked space after all.

She was quick to discover that Jet must have fixed the air. The hangar was nearly freezing, so she couldn't imagine what the interior of the ship would feel like. She suddenly missed her red sweater. Once back in her room, she search for it and keep it on hand. Just because she didn't dress in neon plastic anymore didn't mean a little, red sweater was any more or less inappropriate.

Making her way quickly, Faye was reluctant to tarry for too long. With tear streaks still marring her face no doubt, she'd rather keep all that to herself. Jet's shoulder was probably still damp from where she last cried on it and Ed was still to…Ed to ever understand. And running into Spike just wasn't an option. To let him have that satisfaction…well, Faye just wasn't in the mood to please right now.

_You solitude is welcome, welcome,  
__Your attitude is welcome…_

He'd heard the hangar open about halfway through his fourth cigarette and figured it could only be Faye. After such a trying evening, he was almost positive that Jet would be asleep. He was now sitting on the floor, his back propped up by the bed. One arm was resting on a folded knee while the other leg was stretched out in front of him. Rolling his head back and snuffing smoke out through his nose, Spike closed his eyes for just a moment.

It hit him then, that he was tired. Exhausted, actually. With all of the day's events, yesterday's, the days before, the weeks and months included, Spike realized that he was absolutely worn out. When he'd woken up in the hospital, stitched up in a vision reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster, he had been tired. For being in a "light" coma for two weeks, he had a hard time understanding how his body wasn't rested enough.

Then he'd checked out of the hospital very much against doctor's orders and found himself practically on the other side of Mars. He didn't believe that this was the only operating room available, but probably the only one that wouldn't ask questions as to why he was there.

Getting back to the Bebop hadn't been all that hard, especially since not everyone believed him dead. And with phrases like, "Black Dog wants to know," being thrown around the circuits; it was almost like a beacon in the night. He'd been asked question, mostly by Jet, but he hadn't been pressed for information. He was tended to while he continued to heal, mostly by Jet and the suddenly re-emerged Edward. And he'd been ignored a great deal, mostly by Faye, until he'd finally cracked some code and gotten more of her attention than anyone else's. As much as he should have hated it, he suddenly didn't know why exactly he'd wanted it all to stop.

Pushing himself up from the floor, he dashed out the cig, pushed a tense hand through his hair, and sighed long and hard.

_You are welcome…_

"Well, you didn't make me a liar, so I guess I should be thankful."

Faye had been home free. She'd made it through the ship, her hand was on the door and all she had to do was push and she'd be in her refuge once again. It was at the sound of his voice that she remembered that fate always did get a kick out of her.

"You know me, Spike," she started without turning around, "I am a woman of my word."

Opening the door and almost _praying_ she'd successfully make it inside, she took a step or two forward and could tell by the shift in the air around her that he'd taken those steps, too.

"What do you want?" She asked with an exasperated sigh. Couldn't whatever he wanted wait? Until forever maybe?

"Well, I guess I could ask you the same question," he countered.

_You are welcome._

Twisting so slightly so that her face was turned to his, a delicate eyebrow arched in confusion. Faye could have figured that he'd say a lot of things to her, but question her? What was he playing at now?

"What are you asking me that for?"

"Because I don't think I ever have before," he told her honestly.

She turned more fully towards him this time, hoping her feeling of bewilderment wasn't showing through her features. She noticed he had taken another step or two forward. Instinctively, she took the same approximation of steps back.

"Well?"

"Well _what_, Spike?" She shouted in an aggravated whisper. She was barely reigning in all of the emotions she felt and she seriously just wanted to be done with him at the moment.

He advanced on her again, pushing her into her room without even touching her. Once inside, he closed the door behind him but didn't make a move after that. Light reflecting off of the surface of Venus was the only illumination in the room. A slice of it fell onto Spike's face, reflecting almost painfully off of his fake eye. Faye squinted and turned her head slightly, remembering once again that Spike was made of falsehoods and lies.

_You are welcome…_

"We gotta stop this, Faye," he told her. If she wanted to skirt around the issue, then he'd let her. But he wasn't going to anymore.

Sighing and sitting on her bed, she ran a hand through her hair, briefly wondering why she'd ditched the headband. She flicked on the light that was sitting on the little table next to her bed and tried her best not to look at him. Watching her closely and not seeing any signs of her joining the conversation anytime soon, he continued for her.

"We gotta stop this, so we need to talk. We need to –"

"You're right, Spike," she chimed in suddenly, "We _do_ have to stop this."

_You are welcome._

He wasn't sure why he was so caught off guard by that, but Spike was staring at Faye even more intensely, now. Now, he was studying her, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of hers. He always knew that women were hard to understand but to him, Faye might as well have spoken ancient Latin.

"Don't look at me like I've grown another head," she told him as she noticed the look on his face. "We can't keep doing this. _I_ don't want to keep doing this."

"Well then, I guess we understand each other," Spike said with a mix of relief and an odd sensation of loss. But he shrugged that off as he turned to go.

"You didn't let me finish," Faye spoke up, but not in a voice that was threatening or loud.

_All this time, we heard alarms…_

Piqued by her tone, Spike turned back around and decided to let her have her say. He watched as she picked up a cigarette and lit it. He noticed how softly she brought it up to her mouth and saw the soft pull of her lips as she inhaled. He watched her too closely but couldn't bring himself to stop.

"I can't do this anymore Spike, not with you. You…you mean something to mean. _Too_ much to me. And I care what you think of me," she turned to look him in the eye then. "I think you hate me, Spike. I think you hate me for so many reasons.

"You hate me because I'm alive. You hate me because I'm not Julia. That I'm alive and she's dead. You hate me because I dare to say her name and you hate me because of the way you use me as a substitute for her. I'm a woman with an attitude so that automatically puts me on your hate list, too.

"And I think you are disgusted by me…_with_ me," she held up a hand then as she saw him about to speak. "I think you find me lowly and unworthy because I so easily slipped into bed with you and so soon and only after everything happened. You'll say I took advantage of you. You'll say that it was all apart of some grand scheme of mine. And how could I prove you wrong? _Why_ would I prove you wrong?"

"You've had you dreams interrupted so many times and I don't want to burst another bubble. But I don't want to be a lost cause to you, either."

_Come to find, we fell apart…_

"I just…I dunno, I think I just thought that maybe if I let you have me, then you wouldn't hate me. That's why I never stopped it, Spike; that's why I never turned you away. I know it's stupid, it sounds _so_ stupid…

"You're…one of the…only people I have in this world and I guess I'm protective of you and how you see me. I just want to…make you happy…" she bit out in a whisper.

"You shouldn't have wasted you time, trying to please me, Faye," Spike almost whispered back in a voice that was oddly tender.

"Yeah, but I did…for you…and for me," she began again. "I just wanted you to care about me, Spike. I…I just wanted for you to look at me in a way that suggested you approved of me _somehow_. You're one of the only people I have in this world. You may think you know what it means to be alone, but you don't. Until you wake up from a fairytale into a nightmare, 54 years later to boot, then you don't _really know_ what alone is.

"I don't want to be alone. I've never wanted to be alone. And I've always just wanted someone to care. But I see now that that person was never you; can never be you. Because you hate me and you are disgusted with me and there isn't a damn thing I can do to change you mind…"

_This whole thing has crashed down, crashed down…_

Faye didn't know when she had started crying again, but there was really no point in stopping the tears. She was tired of hiding and playing games with Spike. She just wanted to be herself, who she was: a girl who was scared, lonely, and lost. She didn't want to be strong for him anymore. It got her nowhere, anyway.

"I…I'm sorry, Faye," Spike offered, not sure what to say or if saying anything would help at all.

"It's okay, Spike. Really, it's okay. Because I realized something a little while ago. I know I can't please everybody. And I know I can't please you. But I make Jet happy and I make Ed happy, and every now and again, I even make Ein happy. And that, in turn, makes _me_ happy, too. I don't need you to make me feel how I want to feel. And I don't need you to bring me down."

"I never meant to bring you down, Faye."

"Yeah, I think you did. Because I'm still alive and she's not. You wanted me to hurt. Because you knew I liked you, as silly as it was for me to do, and you wanted me to hurt. You wanted to show me that you could kiss me and touch me and make me feel like that, and yet have it mean nothing at all. To show me that I was stupid for trying for something I knew I couldn't have. Mostly, you wanted to show me that I'd never be good enough…not for you."

Spike was staring at her once more. His mouth slight agape, he didn't know what to say or how to even react. He wanted to yell at her and tell her that she didn't know what she was talking about. He wanted to shake her and tell her that her brain was still too freeze-dried to comprehend normal thought. But he couldn't. It was all true, every word of it.

He had been hurting after all he'd gone through and like an evil bastard, he wanted to make someone hurt, too. Faye had been the unfortunate victim. She was right…he had wanted to hurt her. Hurt her as much as he had been. He had wanted to break her and all of her trusting and…he had wanted to break her heart, just as his had been shattered into a thousand shards. He would have cut her if he could, just to see her bleed, but that would have never hurt enough.

He was a sick bastard. He knew that too well, now. Jet was right. He was _always_ right. She didn't deserve this. She would never do anything to deserve this.

_All this time, we heard alarms._

* * *

the home s t r e t c h . . .


	4. Chapter 4

**a/n:** part four, the end of the road

* * *

_Your solitude is welcome, welcome. _

A week later, Jet found Faye in the control room, staring blankly out of the large, round windows. She was clad in pajamas pants that he'd purchased for her a while back, pink with purple hearts, a fashion statement for sure. She was also wearing a black tank and was slumped over _so_ lackadaisically. Her chin rested on her hand, which rested on her knee and the air around her swirled with a bit of sadness.

Knowing she could see him in the reflection if she wanted to, Jet neared her and took a seat by her side. He knew it had been a rough week for her. The morning after she'd returned, he'd woken to find her sitting in the kitchen with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. She'd offered him a cup when she'd noticed him and he took it with a small nod of remorse.

He'd asked her when she got back and if she'd talked to Spike. She'd told him what she'd said without any prompting, which had taken Jet off guard. But what had unnerved him was _what_ she'd said. Or what she'd said to Spike, at least. Jet had never known how deep things ran in the girl, but he was finding out now. Suddenly, he was all too thankful that he was a softie, at least where she was concerned.

Looking over at her now, the lights of Tharsis twinkling faintly over her face, he was so very tempted to pull her into a hug. But he wasn't sure if that was overstepping boundaries. There were no real clear-cut boundaries between the two, but he knew when to keep his hands to his self.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Faye asked in barely a whisper.

Sighing, Jet began to think that he could actually get around this question. Six days ago, Spike had left. He packed his meager belongs and presumably stuffed them into the Swordfish. He had climbed into the cockpit, probably lit a cigarette, and he had left them. Again. Jet figured it was because of what had happened between him and Faye. He was actually a little shocked that he was the one who had left. After all, cut and run was more a Faye specialty.

Looking at her again, Jet was no longer so shocked that Spike had run.

_Your attitude is welcome, welcome._

"I dunno. He might not," he answered her as best he could, as truthful as he could.

"I didn't want him to leave."

Her voice was quiet and far away. She spoke truth as well. She _hadn't _meant for him to leave. All she wanted was for this to stop. All of the meaningless lies and pointless touches and all the pain. She didn't want to hurt him and she was tired of him hurting her. But she didn't want him to leave. Would it have been so hard to simply coexist? They could have continued to bicker and fight and do all of those things, they just had to cut the sex…

Yeah…they couldn't simply coexist.

"Spike's…well…shit, I don't know. I don't think I ever did," Jet started. "Do you really want him to come back?"

Jet settled on tossing a question back her way. Sometimes, it was the best that he could do.

"I didn't want him to leave," she reiterated.

Seeing the tears steadily streaming down Jet did pull her to him, then. She didn't stiffen or retract, she simply leaned into him. She could do with more honest hugs. She could do with more warmth and caring. She leaned into him even more, then, and shifted slightly to avoid the where metal met flesh.

Faye chuckled uneasily, then, at the silly thoughts running through her head. She needed more silly thoughts, as well.

"What's got you cracking up," Jet asked her, his voice wafting down to her ear from over her head.

She felt the words rumble through his chest and into the sided of her face and she was comforted by the feeling.

"I was thinking how the two men in my life are made of spare parts. You and your arm; Spike and his eye. This world really is something, isn't it?"

Jet didn't quite get it, but he laughed anyway. Hearing her laugh was better than hearing her cry.

"Do you think if we had Spike's heart replaced with a mechanical one, that he'd actual care? Even for just a second?"

Kissing the top of her head in a tender gesture he was unaware that he was capable of, Jet pulled her in closer into him.

"I don't think there's a machine around that can fix his real problem. It's his brain that needs fixin' and they ain't got a model good enough for the job."

_You're solitude is welcome, welcome. _

They laughed for a few minutes more. It was a happy sound, for real. It'd been at least a week since a happy sound had come from Faye. It was then, no thanks to Murphy's Law, that they simultaneously heard the sound of the hangar opening. Jet watched as the smile fell from Faye's face. It was almost instantaneous.

She was on her feet quickly, then, and Jet was behind her, albeit a bit more slowly. He had expected her to dash away to her room, but was surprised when she veered towards the sound of a landing ship. Jet wondered briefly if she had her gun on her. If she did, then he wasn't sure if she'd miss this time.

She was quick when she wanted to be, and she definitely wanted to be. He watched her as she dashed into the hangar, figuring whatever Spike got; Spike deserved. Standing in the doorway, he watched her slow to a steady march and keep that stride as she walked up to him. She slapped him first, on the left side. Then again on the right. She manned up next, and punched him again on the left. And Spike took it.

She punched him in the stomach then turned around and messily elbowed him in the ribs. With one more blow, she kicked him hard in the shin and felt him go down with a small grunt of pain. She turned around then and she saw the flinch over his fake eye.

Spike was sure he was going to get a knee to the face, at the very least. He was puzzled when he saw her kneel. He was surprised when she put soft, cool hands on his cheeks, soothing the stings. He almost fell out of his skin when her lips pressed against his. He heard a collective gasp coming from all three adults in the room, but mainly from Jet since his lips were unoccupied.

Faye had gone crazy and there was really no way around that. It had to be the only explanation for this sudden change in behavior. And Spike was very unsure as to what he should do. He figured the best idea was to push her away, but she _had _initiated it. If he pushed her away, he could be in for that knee to the face. He then thought that maybe he should pull her to him and continue what she had started. But then again, that could also result in knee-to-face related injuries. So he did the only thing that seemed most logical: he did nothing.

But he didn't deny that he liked it, the gentle feel of her lips against his. It was desperately simple and painfully sweet. When he saw her striding towards him, he knew she'd hit him, but he never expected this. His eyes slid to Jet's for a moment, questions pouring out of them but the older man merely shrugged, confused as well. Pulling his eyes back to the woman in front of him, he let his eyes slip close and just…enjoy this. He was sure it'd be the last time.

When she finally pulled away from him seconds later, she scooted back and stood up, eyes on him the whole time. She watched as he reluctantly stood and noticed the hand marks and bruise already forming on his face. A small part of her now near regretted hitting him. She had wanted to stop all of this pain, after all. But beyond that, she had almost wished she'd hit him again. But the time for that had passed now. Shaking her head and pushing stray purple strands out of the way, Faye gave Spike a small smile.

"You weren't supposed to leave," she sighed. She sounded so tired. She _was_ so tired. Turning around and walking back to Jet, she sighed again. "You're right, there's no technology capable yet."

_Your attitude is welcome._

Later that night, or early next morning actually, Faye had gotten the sudden urge for a cup of hot chocolate. Knowing that a search of the kitchen would turn up no cocoa mix whatsoever, she did the next best thing. Melting half a chocolate bar in a mug then pouring warm milk over it was the best she could do. It was a delicious effort.

Venturing outside of the ship, Faye sat on the hull of the ship and stared out over the water. The subtle rocking of the boat was a soothing feeling and almost put her to sleep. It was when a body sat down next to her that she perked up again. By the smell alone, she knew it was Spike. That smell of cigarettes and spice and regret would always be instantly recognizable. She didn't have to look at him to know he was staring at her. She could feel it, almost as if he was touching her.

"I know why you hit me," he started softly, a slight chuckle to his voice, "And you hit me good, too. But why…kiss me?"

He left the question simple. He knew that an extra word, one way or another, could spiral this situation out of control.

"You sound surprised, Spike. I'm not being hypocritical," she assured him. She had a feeling she knew what he was thinking.

"I never said you were."

"In my own, twisted way, I was letting you go. I 'set you free'. And I took it all back: you have no power over me. Not anymore. And I sealed it…with a kiss. Fitting, no?"

Spike looked away from her then and processed what she'd said. He felt like he almost understood what she meant, but many of the words still rang of Latin.

"I never had any power over you, Faye," he told her, still trying to sort thing sort in his head.

"But that's were you're wrong, Spike…you definitely did. I wanted you to want _me_. I wanted that so much. That's how you got it…that's how you got to me."

Nodding in the dark, he understood her a bit better, now. He knew what it was like to sacrifice yourself just to get a piece of something unattainable. He wasn't sure how he hadn't recognized it in Faye. It's probably because he hadn't _wanted_ to recognize it.

"Sorry," he told her, honestly meaning the word. "I know how that blows…I didn't mean to put you through that."

Sipping at her cocoa, which was thankfully still warm, Faye let his words roll through her mind. It sounded sincere, and she hoped that it was. She wanted it to be, so she believed it to be true. Venturing a glance at him, she found he was looking at her. He offered her a light smile and she took it, giving him one as well.

"So…where'd you go?"

"I went to…think"

_You are welcome…_

"Think, eh? You couldn't do that here?"

"Nah…I needed a fresh place to clear my head."

"And where, prey tell, was this magical land?"

"I went to the cemetery."

"…Oh…well, that's…whatever works, I guess." Faye really would never understand him.

"It's quiet," he offered her. "And it's usually empty."

"So, you were at a cemetery for six days?"

"You were keeping count?" He asked her, a smirk quite evident in his voice.

"I said you didn't have power over me, I didn't say I was forgetting about you in general."

"If you say so," he continued to smirk.

_You are welcome…_

"That phrase sounds familiar, the power thing."

"Does it?" Faye asked, knowing well that she had plagiarized that line.

"What's it from?"

"Are you saying that I can't think things up all on my own?"

"Well, I know you're not stupid, but no one could claim that you have a way with words."

"Screw you, Spiegel," she smirked back to him.

"I rest my case."

A minute of two of silence stretched between the two of them then. It wasn't a tense silence, though. It was oddly…pleasant. The tension that always surrounded them was no longer as crushing. It was comforting, almost, the thought that maybe, just maybe, the two of them could coexist, simply, became more of a possibility. Faye smiled to herself, then.

"It's from _The Labyrinth_. I loved that movie. And David Bowie wasn't so bad to look at, either," Faye told him finally.

"The what? David who?"

"I swear, kids today..." Faye laughed aloud.

Spike laughed too. It was a good feeling.

_You are welcome._

"You were right about what you said," Spike finally told her. "I knew what I was doing and I honestly wish I hadn't. Jet was also right…you…you didn't deserve that."

Looking at him again, Faye gasped lightly. Maybe thinking in a cemetery _was_ a way to clear your head. She didn't really think he'd thought much on what she said, and she really hadn't expected an apology. _Another_ apology.

"You're a good girl, Faye. You've got one hell of an attitude problem, but a good person nonetheless. I took advantage of that. But I won't anymore. Not like that. I don't want to hurt you anymore.

"And I don't hate you. I could pretend to, hell, I _did_, but I…I don't hate you. And I'm not disgusted with you, either. If I ever made you feel that way, and I know I did, it was only me putting how I felt about _me_ onto you. I didn't want to hate myself, so I tried to hate you instead. That was a real asshole thing for me to do."

"You shouldn't have to pick up my pieces and you shouldn't feel like you have to keep me happy. You can't live for me just like I can't live for you. Things got really fucked up for a while, Faye, but…but maybe we can try and keep things from getting back like that again."

Processing his words, Faye found she was very grateful for what he said. So much so that it almost brought her to tears. He was really good at that, causing her to cry and all. But she kept it in. He had no hold over her anymore, right?

"Thank you," she said tentatively. "I didn't really think you thought too much about it, but I guess you did. I…just…thanks."

He glanced at her again and noticed her hand outstretched. He cocked an eyebrow at her and with the sparse lighting from the city in the darkness he knew she noticed the look on his face.

"Let's shake on it," she told him. "You know, let bygones be bygones and all that. Let's just put this behind us and let it go, 'kay?"

Spike nodded at her. It sounded like a good idea. He was glad she suggested it. If he had have done it, it wouldn't have worked, but she said it, so it was okay to move on from it. But instead of grasping her hand, he bypassed that and settled his lips on hers.

_You are welcome…_

Her eyes went wide and she wasn't sure if she should push him off. But he wasn't insistent in the kiss and he wasn't forceful or brash. It was nothing more than a simple kiss, a simple conformation. She let it happen and neither were looking for something out of it. He pulled away from her seconds later and smiled at her again. No smirks this time.

"A handshake wouldn't do?" She breathily asked him. Then she almost cursed herself for sound breathy to begin with.

"Let's just say we're sealing this with a kiss." _Now_ he was smirking at her.

"You such an ass, you know that, right?" She asked him with laughter in her voice.

"There's that eloquence again."

Laughing aloud now, Faye simply shook her head. Getting to her feet, she held out her hand again in an attempt to help him up.

"No need to seal anything this time," she said as he eyed her.

He grasped her hand and hauled himself up. Letting go, he gestured and she walked in front of him. They both entered into the Bebop and headed towards their rooms. Neither said anything on the way, there really wasn't anything left to say right then. Bygones and all.

"So…you're gonna stay this time, right?" Faye asked as her room came into view. "I mean, as long as you normally hang around, that is."

"Can't let you run me out, now can I?" He smirked again. "People we talk if that happens."

Rolling her eyes, Faye opened her door and went in. It'd been a long week and she was dog tired.

"Goodnight, Spike," she said quietly.

"Sleep well, Faye."

_You are welcome._

"Oh, and Faye?"

"I just couldn't get away that easily, huh?"

"Now where would the fun in that be?"

Turning back to him and give her full, undivided attention (_right_), she cocked an eyebrow at him, crossed her arms, and waited for whatever he'd have to say.

"I wasn't _always_ trying to pretend it wasn't you."

And with that, he disappeared into the darkness of the ship. He did that a lot. He had it down to a science by now. Rushing to the doorway, she could barely make out his retreating form, but she called out to him still.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She whispered loudly at him. It was a mix of confusion and more confusion that held in her voice.

"Well…what's it sound like?" His voice floated through the dark to her.

"I'm not her, Spike. I don't want to be."

"I know you're not. I don't want you to be, either. Now go to sleep, Faye."

She heard his door close but she continued to linger for a few moments longer. She pulled back into her room then and closed her door as well. Faye wasn't sure if she should be mad, sad, or what, exactly at what he had said. It was like he'd break out in hives if he ever gave her a straight answer. But that was a part of the constant dance they did and it wasn't going to change anytime soon.

By the time she'd crawled into bed and settled into a position ripe for sleeping, she settled on an emotion. She was content. That's the best she could ever hope for as long as Spike was involved. She would never be happy with him, there was just too great a distance for them to breach. But he was okay with who she was. At least that's what she got from what he had said. Even though she would have liked to believe that his opinion of her didn't matter, it _had _just been a week. No one healed that fast.

His thoughts of her still mattered. _He­_ still mattered. And she figured he always would so long as she allowed it. As long as things never went back to how they were before, she figured she could permit the behavior a little longer.

_Welcome. Welcome._

It was nearly noon when Faye woke up. She contemplated going back to sleep, but reluctantly pulled herself up anyway. Jet had promised to go to the mall with her and Ed and since it was a rare, icy cold day in Hell when Jet ever agreed to go to the mall of all places, she refused to miss the opportunity. So she tugged her lazy bones up and dressed herself before slinking to the bathroom.

She noticed a note on her door as she exited and easily concluded that it was from Spike. He had terrible handwriting. Reaching up and grabbing it, she opened it and scanned it. She couldn't help but smile.

'_I'd never be your slave, Faye, just as you'd never fear me or love me or do as I say. But that's okay; I think we've already come to our compromise. By the way, no, I wasn't at the cemetery for six days straight. I'm crazy, not stupid (no laughing). Maybe one day I'll tell you where I was…then again, maybe I won't. Bygones, right? I don't think I said it last night, so just in case: thanks._

_Oh, and see? I'm not all dumb. I told you I'd heard that line before.'_

Faye crumpled the note and tossed it in her room. Still smiling, she headed for the kitchen. That lunkhead would forever continue to surprise her. Rounding into the kitchen, she saw him sitting there as if expecting her. A mug of coffee was waiting for her and she accepted it with that feeling of content. They were going to be friends, as much as they could be.

"I got it," she said after a few sips, knowing he'd understand. "And you're welcome."

Smirking at her, he stood and headed out of the kitchen.

"And…same to you…thanks and all…again," she told him after another sip.

"Heh, yeah…anytime time, Faye."

"Oh, and you're no Goblin King," she smirked back at him.

"Well I should certainly hope not," he said in a garish faux-Brit accent. "I could never pull off the tights."

She laughed at him as he faded away from view, the thought of Spike in tights emblazoned in her mind.

'Welcome, indeed,' she thought and she took another sip of her coffee.

_WELCOME, WELCOME,  
SPACE COWBOY…_

* * *

and that's it. did you like it? i hope so. oh, and the labyrinth references...i'd apologize, but i like them there too much. kinda cheesy, i know, but i couldn't help it. so let me say that i also don't own the labyrinth. i hope you enjoyed and i'm glad you stuck around and read this. thanks for stopping by and you stay classy!


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